


Pet Cheetah

by JaccDied



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amputation, But I’m not descriptive at all with gore, Creepy Ramsay Bolton, Drug Dealing, Dubious Consent, I gotchu people who don’t like gore, Just his fingers, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark, Modern AU, Modern Westeros, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Psychological Torture, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Drugs, The Greyjoy family being extra dysfunctional, Theon is already a bit broken in this one, Thramsay - Freeform, Torture, Very mild Throbb, and dick, throbb - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27947066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaccDied/pseuds/JaccDied
Summary: Theon had a habit of getting himself in trouble, bar fights over him being too flirty with a girl that had a boyfriend, drugs that he didn’t pay for, money he owed. And as he found himself bound to a chair in a humid and foul smelling basement, he understood trouble ran in his family, in his blood. Once again he found himself having to pay for his brothers’ mistakes, only this time, the price was way higher than usual.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Reek, Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Prologue- Red Glare

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the story inspired by the song with the same name by Twenty One Pilots  
> I really really put my heart into this uwu first ever Thramsay fic  
> I haven’t read the books, only watched the show so the character’s appearance is based on the actors. THO as I was reading a comparison post of show vs book Ramsay, I discovered that he has a garnet earring and omfg I can’t stop thinking of how good it would look on Iwan so now all my Ramsays have the earring. I also gave Theon tattoos because y es immagine him getting drunk and just getting a bunch of tattoos and then waking up hella confused about the peach emoji on his left butt cheek. I beg someone to pls draw that and tag me. Random tattoos are just so so Theon.  
> Also, I’m sorry that my tags are all over the place :P
> 
> I hope you enjoy my story :)

His eyelids felt heavy, but not the good type of heavy. They felt like they were glued together, impossible to open. His head still buzzed unpleasantly from then hard hit he had taken but he couldn’t feel blood anywhere. He slowly managed to open his eyes, letting them adjust to the red tinted darkness.

He blinked a couple times, inhaling the moist air of what felt like a basement. There was a TV in front of him, he could tell from the glossy surface of the black screen reflecting the red light. He tried to move his head around, to at least try to understand where the light was coming from but a sharp pain his head stopped him, making his vision temporarily blur out.

He groaned lightly and immediately tensed up when he heard the rustling of clothes behind him. Steps coming up from behind him and suddenly two hands gripping tightly at his head, tilting it back to the point that he could feel that mind-numbing pain again, having to bite his lip to prevent a pathetic whimper from slipping out.

“You finally woke up. I was starting to think that I had hit you a bit too hard.” A smooth, mean voice said and Theon could only see the silhouette of this man, both because of the darkness and his vision blurring, all he could make out was the outline of short wavy hair, broad shoulders and a transparent earring, tear shaped, that seemed to almost glow red as the light hit it, “Do you know why you’re here, Greyjoy?”

The way his name was cruelly spat out was a hint already, it had to do with his brothers. He would’ve gladly killed them himself for getting him in trouble for the millionth time, but he was tied to a chair. “Look, if my brothers owe you something, I have nothing to do with it.” He said after a bit, not even trying to keep anger away from his tone. 

“Your brothers do have a part in this, but I’m afraid money is not precisely the problem. Not directly, at least.” The other replied, tone light and almost amused, and even though he couldn’t see them, he knew the man’s eyes were on him, “Your dear brothers have been getting in the way of my business for a while now. So I guess it partly is about money. Do you have any idea of what I’m talking about, Theon?”

His mouth went dry, this wasn’t a joke, it wasn’t them owing someone a couple hundred dollars or them mildly pissing someone off. It was serious, because the only people that could be so pissed at them were the Boltons and he didn’t wanna mess with them. He, in fact, didn’t want to have anything to do with them. But it was a bit too late now, wasn’t it?

Almost as he could read his thoughts, the other man quickly added, “How rude of me to not introduce myself. I can’t expect you to know what I’m talking about if you don’t know my name right? I’m Ramsay Bolton, I’m sure you’ve heard my name before.” And of course Theon did, there wasn’t a single soul in the North who didn’t. Everyone knew Roose Bolton and his son, who had been brought under various accuses of rape, murder, drug possession, drug dealing and so on, all mysteriously dropped eventually. Everyone knew Boltons meant danger, real danger, everyone but his stupid brothers. While the echo of the family with the flayed man banner’s dangerousness had certainly reached Pyke and the Ironislands, his brothers were just too stupid and too hard headed to fully believe in it. And now Theon was the one in trouble.

“Your brothers fucked up, that’s human. They invaded my territory and when I politely asked them to take their business somewhere else, they ignored my warnings. So now you’re here.” His voice didn’t falter, tone still amused, like he was telling the funniest joke he had ever heard and could barely contain his laughter.

Theon didn’t find it funny at all. Not when ropes were digging into his skin and all he could do was look up, at the unknown silhouette with the glaring red earring. He wanted to talk, to scream, to struggle and spit insults at the man but he found himself only able to stare at the red teardrop.

“I’ll come to check on you later, hm? You seem still a bit asleep and I want you fully awake when I talk.” His head fell forward when the man let go of it and he vaguely heard the other walking away, a door closing. 

Theon couldn’t tell how much time passed, it felt like hours but it could’ve been just s couple minutes. Time seemed to stretch out in that neon lit hell. He had finally figured out where the light came from, there was a small window near one of the corners of the room and from there he couldn’t really see what was outside of it but he could distinctly see the edge of a bright red neon sign. 

His head had stopped hurting ages ago and he felt more than ready to tear the bastard that captured him a new asshole, if only he could figure out how to get himself free.

He had tried everything, struggled against the ropes until the skin of his wrists felt raw and sensitive, tried to reach the switchblade that usually sat in his pocket and figured out that it had been taken away already, he had even screamed at some point, more in frustration than to attract help, but nothing worked.

The door opened with a distinct squeaking sound and those calculated steps returned on the hard floor of the basement. The light was kept off once more, it was almost like the bastard wanted to create a creepy atmosphere.  
This time the other walked in front of him, standing between the chair and the TV, where the light hit him and Theon could finally see what he looked like. He had a clean shaved square jaw, lips curled up in a toothy smile and small, mean, eyes.

For a while they stayed like that, observing each other in complete silence. Theon wished he could magically free himself and wipe the smirk off the other man’s face with his fist.  
“Good, good. You seem way more awake now.” The other said, taking a few steps forward, “Now, I’m afraid I might have to take something of yours to prove your brothers that I’m not joking around.” He moved even closer and he could see his face better, mainly his eyes. Even in the crimson darkness, he could see how light and transparent they looked, of an icy blue color if he guessed, pupils dilated from drugs, probably cocaine. “I noticed you have a nice tattoo on your hand, I love how the tendrils of the... Is it a kraken? How Greyjoy of you. I love how they curl down to your fingers. Such a lovely tattoo... It makes you very recognisable.”

Theon felt the slow slump of realisation travel up his throat like bile as the other observed his right hand. He curled his hand up in a fist, as if he could somehow protect it even though he was bound to a chair. Ramsay laughed at that, moving his gaze up from his hand to his face, uncomfortably close “Bet it costed quite the penny too, what a shame that I’ll have to ruin it... All because of your brothers.”

He could feel the edges of his mind start to dampen with anger, he was gonna do something stupid, he knew it. So he did, the other was near enough, he head butted him, even though it hurt his head to do that, “Fuck you and my brothers.” He spat out on the others face, vision blurry again.

The man stumbled back, holding his nose, and then wiping the spit off, “You little shit.” The tone was the same, amused, and he was smiling still but Theon could see it in his eyes, he was pissed. He reached into his jacket and drew out a knife, “Well, I was gonna let you have a little anaesthetic before I cut your finger off but since you decided to be so rude...”  
All the satisfaction from seeing the bastard’s nose bleed dissipated, what was watching your captor’s nose bleed against feeling the pain of feeling your finger being cut off? It wasn’t worth it, but it was too late now. He took a deep breath, keeping his chin up, he was a Greyjoy, he would take the pain like a man. 

The man walked away and for a brief moment, Theon hoped he had given up, but then the light was turned on and he had to rapidly blink to try to adjust to it. Now he could see the other man even more clearly, skin pale with a weird bluish undertone, wavy hair black like the night and yellowed canines peeking over pink lips, like a predator snarling at its prey.

“Extend your hand or I’ll make sure you won’t be able to make a fist ever again.” The light tone was gone, the amusement was gone, now it was just a command, followed by a cold threat but Theon still was unable to comply, partly because he was frozen in fear, still shocked by the fact that he was about to lose one of his fingers, but also because he didn’t want to give in, he wanted to stay strong, “It’s almost like you want me to torture you, uh?”

Their eyes locked and the Ironborn felt himself want to scream, the other’s eyes had something so purely insane in them and it terrified him, it was like he wanted him to go against his orders because he found it amusing, like he wanted to ruin him. It was like his brother’s taking up his dealing territory was just a second reason to torture him, an excuse to, and the first reason was just pure perversion.

He slowly uncurled his hand, putting his fingers on display with a certain amount of shame. But he needed his hand to escape, he couldn’t risk having an unusable hand. “Look at how good you can be when you listen.” The other coed and Theon felt sick to his stomach at the whole situation, like he was about to vomit food that he didn’t eat.  
The knife was brought closer to his hand, sharp tip hitting each of his fingers as his captor decided which one he wanted to cut. He wanted to look away as the blade started to cut into the skin of his ring finger, right after his knuckle. Theon bit his own lip, trying to prevent the scream that wanted to slip out of his throat from coming out as the blood started to wet his skin and the blade.

The bastard was going slow on purpose, he knew it, he could tell from the look of pure fascination he wore on his face, eyes staring unblinking at the blood. He couldn’t hold it anymore, he screamed and writhed against the restraints, hair sticking to his head and vision blurring because of pain and tears. His scream died off in animalistic whines, words mixed in them but Theon himself couldn’t understand what he was saying. 

As he distantly felt his finger detach, all he could think about was how his brothers wouldn’t have broken a sweat in situation like this. He felt pathetic, him, an Ironborn, a Greyjoy, being so vulnerable. He saw a bright light and the shutter of a camera go off as his head was gripped upward but his eyes couldn’t focus. The were another few flashes of light and sounds of a camera going off and then his head was let go off, snapping downward but his eyes still couldn’t focus.

“There, there, it’s over.” He heard the other’s voice bleed into the ringing of his ears and he could vaguely feel something press again his cut finger but it was too painful, too much. He wanted to scream, to fight, to hurt the other man, but it was all too much, all he could do was stare at the blurry mass of flesh and red that his hand was and vaguely acknowledge the fact that his kidnapper was talking to him, “You did very good, Theon. But I can see you’re a bit out of it so I’ll leave you be. If you behave, next time I’ll let you have anaesthetics. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

He could just vaguely mumble an answer, which the man simply chuckled at, before shutting off the light and leaving Theon in the red darkness again.

When he woke up again, instead of the usual red light, the basement was filled with cold but clean morning light. He blinked a couple times, it was still somewhat dark since the window was so small. But at least he could see colours and not just the red glare of a neon sign, even though it was mostly grey.  
He lost himself looking at every inch of wall that sat behind the TV and the floor underneath it, looking at every stain, every crevice, every spot. He couldn’t bring himself to look down at his hand though, the pain had gotten duller, now more of a painful buzz that spread from the lost finger to the rest of the hand, to his wrist than the sharp edge of the knife.

His hair was still grossly stuck to his forehead and he could still feel the dried trace of his tears on his cheeks. But most importantly he felt thirsty, from what he could tell, around a day had passed since he had been kidnapped. With all the sweating and the fact he had peed in his pants, he probably did so when the finger had been cut but he wasn’t sure, he couldn’t remember, he felt incredibly dehydrated.

The door squeaked open once more but Theon didn’t have the force to pry his eyes off the glossy surface of the TV screen, watching the foggy reflection of Ramsay walk towards his own reflection. He watched him put a hand on his shoulder but still flinched when it actually made contact with his body. “Your brothers haven’t answered yet... But I’m kind so I’ll give them a couple days to reply before we move to the next step.” He said but it felt more like he was talking more to himself than Theon.

He moved, again in front of him and the Ironborn could see how amused his expression looked, “God, you don’t even look like Theon Greyjoy anymore. I thought it would take you more time to start to look this miserable.” He wanted to lunge forward, to break the other’s face but he couldn’t, so he resorted to just staring vacantly at his captor, trying to give him as less satisfaction as he could, “Yeah, you don’t look like the boy who would come up on the news sitting next to the Starks at some fancy political dinner. Ned Stark saved you from an abusive father or some bullshit like that, right?”

That made his blood boil, he didn’t want to talk about his father, especially with the bastard that kept him tied up in his basement and had cut one of his fingers, but he kept silent.  
“Since you’re not Theon Greyjoy anymore, I’ll need to find you a new name. I’d leave you nameless but it’s difficult to address someone without a name and I like to talk to my victims.” The Bolton stepped forward and passed a hand though the tied man’s dirty blond hair, yanking his head back to look force him to look up. Ramsay made a disgusted expression, his nose and eyes scrunching up, “You reek...Reek...Reek! That’s your new name. Such a fitting one.”


	2. Lost Parts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Theon being very sensible to any kind of torture, physical or not because of his family situation (descripted in the last charapter’s notes) so I imagine him being very easy to sculpt and manipulate because his trauma never really healed.  
> Enjoy uwu

“I’m starting to lose my patience, Reek. Say your name.”

It had been going like that for a while, Theon didn’t want to give up, to become a creature, Reek but Ramsay wasn’t letting up either, asking him over and over and hitting him when he said his real name. Theon Greyjoy, son of Balon Greyjoy, he couldn’t let himself forget. It felt tempting at times, just giving up and letting his captor have what he wanted, but he couldn’t, couldn’t forget his own name. 

His face ached from how many times he had been punched and slapped, there was a trail of dried up blood that fell down from his nose to his chin and his left eye was slightly closed, his jaw hurt, everything hurt. But he wanted to be strong.  
“T-T-Theon Gr-“ Another harsh backhand was delivered to his cheek, but he could barely sense the pain anymore. It was more the hunger that did it for him. A few day had passed and all he had been given was a shot glass of water, his mouth felt dry, his eyes felt dry, everything felt wrong and his stomach was slowly starting to ache. He vaguely remembered how good it had felt sliding down his throat, even if briefly. Sweet, pure water, his throat hurt at the thought.  
He wanted to give up so bad, to be given even just a few bread crumbles, he would’ve died to taste food again. And it was all his brother’s fault.

He had dreamed of people finding him, the police, coming in with bright flashlights and harsh commands, sometimes Yara, who was the only other Greyjoy that had ever cared about him and other times again, Robb, who forgave him for choosing his abusive family over the people who had been so kind to him and drove him away from that basement, wrapped a blanket around him and made it all better.

Those thoughts and dreams always made him ache deep in his heart, sob and weep, sometimes even freely in front of Ramsay. He had no dignity anymore anyway so why even try to defend it? Deep down in his heart, he already knew that he wasn’t Theon Greyjoy anymore. He couldn’t be an Ironborn in the conditions he was in, so early too, he didn’t have the honour of someone from Pyke anymore. Not when his clothes were dirtily stuck to his skin, stained with blood, tears and piss, not when he knew Ramsay’s mercy was the only way he would be able to survive.

“I’ll leave you to think about how disobedient you’re being.” Theon sometimes couldn’t stand being alone, the thoughts made him angry, sad and desperate all at once but he also couldn’t stand his captor’s presence just as much. He distantly heard the door close and he was once again left alone in the red, damp darkness.

Alone his thoughts turned even more sour, he dreamt of death, his or Ramsay’s, of tearing skin and blood gurgling out of mouths. Sometimes he watched iced blue eyes become duller with death and sometimes he watched his own sea coloured ones lose their life.  
He dreamed of blood staining the Bolton’s yellowed smile and he again wasn’t sure whose blood he wanted it to be.

The day after, (or was it the same day? Theon couldn’t tell anymore. The light was back but it didn’t mean anything when he kept losing consciousness) when his captor was back, he wanted to weep. Before he could even see the reflection in the TV, he could smell the food, warm, soft, supple food that made his mouth water. He wanted it so bad, even if he knew his jaw hurt too much to chew.  
He watched Ramsay’s reflection approach him, holding a tray in his hands, he could already make out the silhouette of a tall glass and a plate next to it, with something on it. He felt himself starting to give in, he was willing to say anything, to do anything, for a piece of whatever that was.

The tray was sat on top of the TV and Theon found himself stuck observing how clear and glossy the water looked, his throat spasmed painfully at the sight and he gulped drily. Even his spit was running out.  
“Your brothers still haven’t replied.” It was a daily report at this point, the first thing he said whenever their gazes met. The ex-Ironborn didn’t find himself surprised at that point, he had stopped being surprised the first time he had been told that. Beside the fact that his family as a whole had never been really close, the fact that they were much older than him and his living in the north for most of his life hadn’t helped. 

The only one who gave a fuck about him was Yara, the one who had helped him get away from their abusive father in the first place, but even she didn’t love him. Or if she did, what she loved was Theon Greyjoy, not the miserable tied up creature he was quickly becoming.

“Say your name.” There again, the cold, soulless tone was there. It had been there for days at this point and Theon was starting to be afraid of getting boring to the man. While boring would probably bring death, being forgotten in a basement sounded like such a slow death and he was afraid of dying slow, forgotten in a basement that even the drowned god didn’t know the location of.

He wanted to die near the sea, let the salted waves and sea life consume his body. He wanted to die in peace and join his kin in the drowned hall. He didn’t want his life to end under no gods.  
“Reek.” He didn’t truly believe it, although he didn’t feel like Theon either, but the plain toast sitting on the shiny white plate looked too good and he was ready to lose his dignity for it. It looked like it was gonna be a bit too hard on his aching jaw, the surface dark brown and crisp looking but he couldn’t care less.

“Say it again, say that you are Reek.” The amused tone was back and the not-Theon-anymore couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. The words felt stuck to his tongue, sticky and disgusting in his mouth but the piece of toast was glaring back at him with warmth, so he obeyed, “I-I’m Reek.”

Ramsay bursted out laughing and the bound man felt a certain sense of relief wash over him, at least he was amused and he wouldn’t kill him because he was bored, right? A hand was stroked through his greasy hair and the act felt so sweet and warm that he wanted to vomit. Since when anything that his captor did brought him comfort? Had he fallen so low already?

“You look so needy and desperate, it’s almost pornographic.” Theon barely managed to hold his expression of disgust, he didn’t want to fuck it up now that he had food in front of him, but the idea of the other man finding his state erotic made a cold chill creep up his spine. It wasn’t like he had never been aware of people who liked extreme stuff, he had just thought that never in his life he would have been on the receiving end of such disgusting acts.

The slice of toast was parted in half by his captor’s hands and held up to his mouth. He hated it, he didn’t want to eat from the hands that had hit him, punched him and cut his finger off. But he swallowed what remained of his Greyjoy pride down along with the piece of bread, almost chasing his captor’s fingers when he retracted them to take the next piece of toast.

He wasn’t sure if it was real or if he was just hallucinating at that point but the piece of food seemed to almost warm up his whole body and he shivered at the sensation. He craved more, more warmth to his poor bones that had been constantly left in the darkness and cold of that putrid basement that smelled of mold, dust and death.

Another piece of toast was fed to him and he almost cried and licked Ramsay’s fingers in gratitude. It felt so good, even if chewing hurt and ached deep in his teeth. He mostly swallowed the food when it was half chewed cause he could taste the metallicness of blood coming from the back of his gums. 

Then he eyed the water as the glass was brought closer to him but not to his lips. He felt a low whine want to form in the back of his throat but he pressed it down, he wasn’t a dog, he didn’t need to make pathetic sounds to get water and food.  
“When I looked at the newspapers, I always saw Theon Greyjoy smile, such an arrogant little smirk on his face. I always wondered why he was always smiling like that. Give me that little Greyjoy smile, Theon, and I’ll give you the water.” It had to be a trick. He had insisted for him to be Reek for days and now he called him Theon. But he wasn’t Theon anymore, he was the shell of an Ironborn living tied up in a Bolton’s basement.

“Not gonna smile, little kraken?” The other sharply said, gripping his jaw with one hand and forcing Reek’s head up, “All this a water could be yours, with just one smile. I imagine you’re probably quite thirsty, it’s been a while since I’ve given you water.”

He shook his head, feeling himself shatter in even smaller pieces than before, managing to whimper out after a few moments of expectant silence, “I can’t.”

“And please tell me, why can’t you, Theon? Have you forgotten how to shape your mouth into a smile?” Ramsay wasn’t wearing his usual expression and his tone wasn’t amused but he didn’t look angry or bored, which the bound man figured was good, just interested, calculating and observing his prey’s every move.

“N-not Theon, I’m not Theon.” It came as a mere murmur under his breath but he knew the other had understood when his eyes lit up with pure insanity and a perverse smile spread across his face, yellowed canines showing up again, “Then, who are you?’  
“Reek.” The water was slowly poured down into his mouth and Reek found himself wanting to moan when it hit his throat. It felt heavenly and he wanted it to never end but it did. 

His captor’s hand was back on his head, petting his hair and he felt warm and small, like he could fall asleep right on the spot, just thanks to Ramsay’s care. “You won’t like what I’m about to do but it’s necessary because your brothers haven’t answered yet.” That took him out of his food induced tiredness immediately, he watched the other walk away from him, near the TV. He crouched and he heard the sound of a cabinet opening and a bit of objects being moved around.

Ramsay closed the cabinet and got up again, holding a VHS tape up to Reeks face, “Do you know what this is, pet?”  
Pet. Is that what he was? A creature, an it? He couldn’t even bring himself to be enraged about it, because he knew it was true. He wasn’t Theon, he was just a basement creature, barely more important than a rat. All his importance came from the fact he was supposed to be a weapon against his brothers, supposed being the keyword. Maybe, at the end he wasn’t even that important, but he didn’t want Bolton to realise that.

“A VHS tape...” It came out as barely more than a whisper, partly because his throat had started feeling dry again but also because he was reluctant to know what was about to come, after all, he had been told he wouldn’t like it. 

“Yes, it is that. But this one contains a special video. I filmed one of my victim’s... Operation and I would like you to watch it before the same thing happens to you.” Why had he forgotten who he was talking to? Why, even for brief moment? Had a slice of bread and a glass of water wiped his mind clean of all reason? Of course the other man knew no mercy, or at least, not real mercy, he was a Bolton. Feeding him wasn’t kindness, it had a purpose, keep him alive to torture him more.

The bastard turned the TV on and put the tape into the player, making it start. Immediately a loud cry came from the screen and Theon flinched at it, eyes glued in front of him. There was a man, bound to a chair, just like him, but he was naked and clean, hair perfectly trimmed and face clean shaved so he hadn’t been there for long.

“I’ll leave you to watch it, I have other stuff to take care of. If you take those pretty eyes off of it, I’ll punish you. And trust me, I’ll know it.” He distantly heard him say and only when the door was being closed he realised Ramsay wasn’t standing near the TV anymore. Reek believed the threat so he didn’t dare shift his eyes off the screen, even as the man on it screamed and wailed as the knife cut his dick off and as his owner in the video laughed and laughed.

That night he barely slept, even when the video stopped screaming, it had stopped on a still of Ramsay smiling maniacally, holding the victim’s severed organ up to the camera. The scream and that image had haunted his dreams, every time he closed his eyes, he could still see those icy ones staring right back at him. So he watched the light appear from the window, occasionally dozing off in a disturbed sleep.

He was jerked awake by the door opening, followed by the foot steps he was used to. He quickly pulled his head off his shoulder and looked at the TV in instinct but was greeted only by a yellowed smirk and mean, cold, eyes. This time his captor didn’t walk in front of him, instead grabbing his head like he had done the first night. He looked up and met those eyes again after a night of dreaming exclusively of them.

“Do you feel ready, Reek?” It didn’t feel like a question, it felt like a death sentence and somewhere inside him, something was kicking, screaming and struggling but everything felt drowned over. Instead, he felt a strange, eerie calm take over him like it was his fate, like he couldn’t do anything against it and he decided he wouldn’t even try to. Beside the persistent echo of the yells of someone deep down, his mind was quiet.

“No.” He said and he watched a smile similar to the one stuck on the TV spread on his owner’s lips, teeth an pink lips, icy blue eyes, screams and red, so much red, but at least his face wasn’t covered in blood in this version of the smile. And he still felt calm, like this had been his decision. Like Theon dying had been Theon’s own plan all along, he was just a shell, the creature in the basement, Reek.

“Now, I’ll free your hands so I can move you. I’ll bathe you so you won’t get an infection and then I’ll move you to a special room. And if you behave, I’ll let you have something to forget the pain, hm? Would you like that?” He absently nodded as the ropes were cut away from his wrist, which were red and sore, then his legs. He wasn’t sure he could walk but luckily his captor was helping him raise already, a firm hand on his arm.

Ramsay scrunched his face up like he had done when he had first pronounced his new name and he felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him, but he quickly forgot about it. Creatures are not human, they don’t feel bad about smelling and being unclean, because they’re just that, creatures.

He saw the door for the first time and it looked almost magnificent, it was open and he could peek into the house already, admiring the splendid red walls and black carpet. Wouldn’t Reek dirty that magnificent pice of house with his stench and dirtiness? A creature didn’t need to worry about itself, but it sure did have to worry about not ruining it’s master’s precious things. He was slowly helped up the stair and before he could even protest, pushed outside the door and into the hallway.

“Here, second door to the right, do what you have to do and when I’m back I want to find you already naked and waiting.” Reek was shoved in a direction as his master walked away. So he headed where he had been instructed to and entered the bathroom. Did his master trust him that much already? He felt a voice whisper bad, intrusive thoughts as he started to strip but he quickly pushed it away, he wasn’t gonna gonna abuse of his owner’s kindness. After flushing the toilet he finished removing his dirty garments and he looked around for a place to rest them on but the white marble felt too clean, too superior for him to dirty it, so he just held them in his arms, standing in the middle of the room.

When his master returned, Reek felt himself turn red under his master’s firm gaze, especially when it reached between his legs and a smirk appeared on his face, “So nobody was lying when they sang praises about the oh so wonderful Greyjoy cock, I wonder if Theon knew how to use it. Did he, Reek?”

He felt himself shiver even in the warmth as he the icy gaze went back to his face, “I don’t know. I know nothing about Theon.” He said, hoping it was the answer he wanted to hear. His master seemed pleased as he bent down to turn the water on, before glancing at him over his shoulder, “Put the clothes down on the counter, you don’t want to bring the in the water, do you?”

The creature shook his head and quickly obeyed, before returning to his spot to observe his owner messing with the temperature of the water, making sure it was warm, steam already starting to blur the mirror. The house looked nice from what he had seen, so much better than how the basement looked or his brother’s apartment or... his own. He couldn’t remember how it looked nor the address, but back in his mind he knew it was like the basement, cold, dark, lonely and full of things he wanted to forget. He never wanted to go back to his basement, he never wanted to go back to his apartment. He felt the sudden urge to cry, cry over something he had lost... But what had he lost? A creature doesn’t own, it’s owned along objects it may be permitted to use but even those objects weren’t the creature’s, only a human could own, but he was no human. And if nothing is owned, nothing is lost.

“C’mon, the bath is ready.” Ramsay turned towards him once again, extending his hand so he could use it to lean on as he entered the water. He almost jumped as his feet sinked into it, it felt way too warm on his skin but he knew it was just because he had been left in the cold basement for so long, so with an encouraging hand squeeze from his captor, he stepped in with his other foot as well, hissing at the warmth. His hand was let go of and he gripped at the edge of the tub, lowering the rest of him down in the water. He brought his knees up to his chest, suddenly feeling way too exposed.

He could see all his tattoos again, the little severed Kraken, which hurt like hell but wasn’t bleeding anymore at least, the copy of the painting the wave that wrapped around his ankle, the small wolf that bit its own tail on his thigh and other smaller ones that were littered around his body, a koi fish, a syringe, a smiley face, some done professionally, some by his friends (Theon’s friends, Reek knew only his master), some sticknpoke, some he loved, some he hated.

As he was lost in his thoughts, a loofah was not so gently passed on his back, almost waking him up. He hissed lightly as Ramsay continued to scrub, almost as if he was determined to take his first layer of skin off along with the sweat and dirt. He didn’t expect anything more, glad enough that the water was warm.

The loofah moved up his back, down his shoulders and arms. His skin looked slightly splotchy and raw. A hand gently pushed his legs down, away from his chest and he suddenly felt the urge to punch him. To scream, to attack him now that he thought he had him mindless and pliant. Theon wanted to do that, he really did, but the consequences wouldn’t be worth it. He couldn’t bear the thought of being awake as another part of him was cut away.

His body went rigid when soft hands, not the scratchy loofah anymore, touched his inner thigh. He had to wrap a hand around the edge of the tub to prevent himself from jumping away from the touch. It slowly travelled upward and he suddenly felt a stab of fear in his chest, he couldn’t stand to be touched like that from the bastard.

“What’s wrong, little kraken?” The other said in a sickly sweet tone as he wrapped a hand around his still soft cock. Theon only then realised he had closed his eyes and scrunched his face up, in an effort to stop himself from reacting violently and because he frankly didn’t want to see himself be abused. He blinked his eyes open, briefly catching a icy stare before lowering his head, “Is Theon embarrassed? I didn’t think such a womaniser could feel embarrassed from a simple handjob.”

His tone was amused, almost joking, and for once his grin seemed to reach his eyes so he figured he was truly enjoying himself. But he could tell he was waiting for something, for Theon to lash out, move away, do something that would deem him worth of punishment. But he was frozen on fear, alla he could do was pant, watch and grip the tub so hard his hands hurt as his body betrayed him. Maybe it instincts knew already who owned him and that he was merely an instrument, ready to be played by the skill full hands of his captor.

He felt his body heave into a sob as a pool of sick heat coiled around his gut, “Isn’t it nice? Am I not a generous man for letting you have your last erection?” At that he just burst out sobbing, hoping that his despair would make his erection flag, but the warm water and calculated touches didn’t let it. His head was yanked back and he found half lidded cold eyes peering down at him, “And why are you crying now?”

A lump of fear stopped in his throat and he felt his blood turn cold, had he just fucked up? Was he gonna have to endure the pain until he passed out again? He gulped, almost as if he could swallow his fear away and stared back at those eyes with his certainly teary ones, his mouth parting a few times to try to force words out but only a small moan came out as his captor had never stopped stroking him.

There were a few seconds of silence and Theon feared the worst but his captor started laughing, a mean sound, letting go of his hair and his hand stilling for a moment. He watched his master bring his free hand up to his mouth, trying to stiffle his laugh, with a lot of confusion, not really understanding what had been so funny. But then again, Ramsay always seemed to be amused at what made the creature miserable. 

“I didn’t think a handjob would overstimulate Theon Greyjoy to the point of crying, this is priceless! Too bad I don’t have my polaroid with me.” Theon almost felt all the tension melt away and if he could’ve did it, he would’ve sighed. But the glare was back and he stiffened once more under it, “Now shut up and be grateful of of my generosity.”

He tried to tuck his consciousness away as the other started stroking again but his traitorous body didn’t let him and he soon found himself panting, hips hitching to thrust into he palm, like a dog. The fact that the other was staring at him like a hungry wolf ready to pounce on his prey, he wanted it to be over but the icy blue star didn’t help at all. The water was turning cold and the friction was irritating at that point so he squeezed his eyes shut and thought of someone else. Robb.

It wasn’t even that hard to immagine him being the one kneeling beside the tub, the pain almost dissipated and he could distantly hear himself make pleasured noises, an R resting at the tip of his tongue but never spoken in fear to say the wrong name. He finally saw a new face behind his eyelids, a kinder one, with a warm smile and love in his eyes and he wanted to sob again but his crying was eradicated at the root but an overwhelming orgasm, a pathetic one too, that brought no emotional satisfaction, just a thick fog of tiredness in his mind.

He was hauled up and sat on the closed toilet, a cloth wrapped around his shoulders and Ramsay drying his hair with another cloth. Theon wanted to vomit, from his position he could easily the tenting of the other’s black jeans. He wanted to leave his own body, he wished he could just vanish, disappear, crumble away, leave nothing behind for the other man to have his sick fun with.

The other slowly helped him up, he felt so pathetic having to rely on someone like that. But after being tied up for so long, he needed it. His feet didn’t collaborate and his legs muscles were starting to tire already, he was dependant. A little dependant basement creature.

He shook out of his thoughts and found himself sitting on a table, in a completely new room. Ramsay was standing near him filling up a syringe with clear liquid and Reek felt himself panic. He (but who is it really? Theon? Reek? A creature?) wanted to run, the sight of syringe solidified everything in his mind, it was actually gonna happen. Before he could even shift away a millimetre, a hand gripped at his shoulder and he slowly looked up, catching a smirk as usual, “Don’t worry Reek! It’s just your anaesthetic, I’m not gonna kill you with a syringe.”

His face had probably been morphed into a terrified expression, he realised, so he tried to calm himself down. The other studied him for a few seconds, half lidded eyes scanning over his body and he shivered, making the man grin again. He walked away and he felt him rest a hand on his back, followed by the sharp tip of the syringe.

As it entered his body, he wondered if Ramsay actually had any medical knowledge. Sure, his hand wasn’t rotting and it had actually started healing well for being barely treated and left in a moist, dirty basement, but a finger wasn’t the nerves in his spine, the ones that made his whole body function.

He winced as the needle was removed and thrown away, was he supposed to start feeling it already? He wasn’t even really sure what kind of anaesthetic it was supposed to be, would he just fall asleep any time now? Was it supposed to feel like being at the dentist?  
“There, was it that hard? Now, on with your tranquilliser.” He moved away, towards a small table to the side, which seemed to have surgical instruments on it. Among the other stuff, a polaroid camera stood out. He was gonna document everything, for Theon’s brothers or himself, Reek wasn’t sure.

“Tranquilliser? So it’s not general?” He dared to speak up, feeling like the other seemed in a good enough mood to not deliver a beating. The other turned around, delivering him the most sweet smile ever, the kind you’d give to a less intelligent person when they’re saying something stupid that amuses you to no end.

“Of course not, my dull little pet. It’s regional, means you should stop feeling your legs in ten to thirty minutes. General isn’t fun, I like my victims awake.” Victim. Victim... Something, someone you kill is a victim. Was he a pet or a victim? He couldn’t understand anymore, “But since you have in fact been behaving well, I decided I’ll give you a little something to keep calm. I like you way better when you’re not stuck in your thoughts anyway.”

He opened his palm and showed him a few pills, which he immediately recognised, Xanax. He vaguely remembered taking a lot of those, with friends, alone in his room back at Winterfell... But the memories felt distant, like they were someone else’s, “Open up.”

The pills were pressed on his tongue, fingers lingering to press against his lips and the other man way too close for his comfort. Once Ramsay had slightly backed off, he shakily swallowed them, his dry throat not helping the process. He was helped to lay down on the table, only then realising that he could barely feel anything from his waist down.

Days after, he was back in the basement, strapped back to his chair. He was kept drugged, completely out of his mind. All he did all day was stare off in the distance and hallucinate, waiting for his master to come visit him, check the progress of the healing, clean the scar, change the bandages, feed him. 

Sometimes it vaguely hurt, both physically and emotionally, but the pain wasn’t his and he knew it. It was Theon’s and the more days passed, the more Reek found himself hating that man. It was his brother’s fault if master had been angry at him in the past, Reek didn’t have brothers. He only had his master and it was the only one he needed.

He heard the door jerk open and he quickly straightened his head with a little groan, it always felt foggy and heavy this days.

“Your brothers haven’t replied to me. I made sure they go it and they still haven’t replied.” He could hear the irritation in his voice and see the way his owners mouth twitch and realised he was genuinely pissed. Reek was scared, a pissed Ramsay could mean anything. He stopped in front of him and it was like the tension melted away from his face, leaving only a smirk behind, “Not even your brothers want you. What am I gonna do with you, Reek? You’re not even useful to me anymore.”

He looked up at his captor, terrified. Was he gonna get rid of him? Kill him? Reek could feel tears well up in his eyes at the idea. A hand was placed on his cheek and he calmed down, he wouldn’t act so sweetly to him if he was planning to kill him, right? Or maybe it was like killing a old or sick dog, you don’t want it to know it’s the end so you comfort it and spend its last seconds with it. He was terrified but he knew that no matter what decision Ramsay took, Reek would accept it and obey.  
“Hm, maybe I actually have a use for you. You do make a obedient pet.”

He nodded, he would agree with anything the other said because he was the one who created him, his god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting fact about this fan fiction: I didn’t necessarily call it pet cheetah cause the lyrics match the feel (beside the ‘I've got a pet cheetah down in my basement I've raised him, and bathed him, and named him’ and ‘My house is the one where the vultures are perched on the roof’ parts) but the vibe of the song just gives me dark, damp, neon red basement vibes and I couldn’t get it out of my head until I wrote something with it and Thramsay was just too perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Plot that is only hinted at:  
> After Theon’s mother died, Balon just lost it and became extremely abusive with his kids. Theon’s brothers were already outside of the house so only Yara and him got the worst of it. The moment Yara was old enough to be out of the house, she fled to the North and got help from the Starks, who ended up adopting Theon. Years later, his brothers came up to the north to expand their family’s drug dealing business and ended up dragging poor little Theon in it. Of course, when the Starks (read as: mostly Robb) got to know that, they were furious and immediately told him to stop before he got in serious trouble that they couldn’t bail him out of. He didn’t listen and picked his brothers family and practically isolated himself from the Starks. His brothers slowly started expanding their business along the North, keeping Theon as a dealer, they ‘accidentaly’ stepped in Bolton territory and slowly started stealing their clients. So Ramsay had the brilliant idea to take Theon as hostage. The rest you’ll have to read to find out ;)


End file.
